


The Disorganized Religion of My Head

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump lives a pretty sheltered life. It’s not something that Patrick really even argues against at this point because he knows it’s true. His parents are extremely religious: they go to church every Sunday, they go to Bible Study every Wednesday, and they volunteer for pretty much every church event possible. Patrick doesn’t necessarily hate doing these things, though. He just wishes that he could make more friends other than the kids from his church, but most people think he’s a weird, bible-thumping asshole, when in reality, he doesn’t really buy in to the whole “religion” thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Disorganized Religion of My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a few weeks to write and I feel like this is as good as it's going to get, y'know? Hope you guys enjoy it!

Patrick Stump lives a pretty sheltered life. It’s not something that Patrick really even argues against at this point because he knows it’s true. His parents are extremely religious: they go to church every Sunday, they go to Bible Study every Wednesday, and they volunteer for pretty much every church event possible. Patrick doesn’t necessarily hate doing these things, though. He just wishes that he could make more friends other than the kids from his church, but most people think he’s a weird, bible-thumping asshole, when in reality, he doesn’t really buy in to the whole “religion” thing. 

Patrick hears footsteps coming up quickly from behind. Before he can react, the footsteps skid to a stop beside him. 

“Hey, dude,” Joe greets. Joe Trohman is the only exception to Patrick’s social pariah status, apparently, and the two have been friends for years. Patrick’s parents love Joe, mostly because they don’t know anything about him other than he’s polite and Patrick likes hanging out with him. 

“Hey,” Patrick returns. They quickly fall into step with each other. Joe hoists his black backpack over his front and starts digging through the largest pocket, narrowly dodging the flow of kids trying to exit the school grounds. 

“I got that Bowie tape for you.” Joe hands Patrick the small rectangle with David Bowie’s image printed on it. 

“Thanks, man! I definitely owe you one.” Patrick grins and examines the cassette, turning it every which way. 

Joe shrugs. “It’s still hard for me to believe that your parents won’t even let you listen to Bowie.” 

They climb onto the waiting bus and take a seat near the back, Patrick in the window. He places the cassette into his bag and carefully zips it back up. 

“I think it’s the whole ‘makeup’ and ‘women’s clothing’ thing that freaks them out.” Patrick says, using air quotes for emphasis. 

“Your parents are kind of ridiculous.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

The whole ride home, Joe talks excitedly about an awesome show he went to that weekend and how he almost got pulled into a fight. Patrick listens intently to his friend’s story, doe-eyed and hanging on his every word. Patrick will admit he sort of lives vicariously through Joe’s experiences. 

“There’s going to be another show next weekend. You should go.” Joe insists, nudging Patrick gently in the side. Patrick rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Dude, you invite me to shows all the time and the answer is always the same. I can’t.” 

“I know, I know, because your parents are tyrants.” Joe says. 

“They’re not tyrants. They’re just...looking out for me.” Patrick mumbles. 

“They’re tyrants.” Joe responds decidedly, leaning back into the brown, plastic seat and closing his eyes. 

They get off the bus at the same spot every day so Patrick can walk Joe home before heading to his own house. They depart at his front door after Patrick gives a little wave to Joe’s mom who is chatting on the phone when she sees him. 

Patrick walks the last few blocks to his house and tentatively opens the front door. He’s immediately greeted by his mom who is standing in front of the hallway mirror trying to put on a pair of earrings. She’s wearing a long, cream-colored dress and a pair of matching heels. Her makeup is done and she smiles at Patrick when he drops his bag in the corner. 

“Hi, honey, how was your day?” 

“It was fine. How was yours?” Patrick asks. His mother holds out a pearl necklace to him and Patrick stands behind her to help clasp it. 

“It was pretty good.”

“What are you dressed up for?”

“Your father and I are going to a dinner tonight with some of the people from the church. You don’t have to go but you’re welcome to join us,” she says. Patrick’s dad comes down the hall dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie. 

“I think I’ll skip out on this one. I have some homework I have to do.” 

Patrick’s mom smiles and nods. “I’ll leave you some money for pizza, then.” 

Patrick sees his parents out and locks the front door. He grabs his backpack and quickly heads up to his bedroom. Patrick all but dumps out the contents of the bag looking for the tape Joe gave him. He finds it buried under papers (he should really think about organizing his school stuff), unharmed. 

He pops the tape into his stereo and hits play. A stream of chords and David Bowie’s vocals begin and Patrick flops back onto his bed, closes his eyes, and listens. 

\--

Joe is up in arms about school food again. It’s probably the fifth time Patrick has heard this spiel about macaroni and cheese tasting like plastic and brownies that are probably made with sawdust from shop class. 

“I really don’t understand how the school isn’t being _shut down_ for this gross excuse they call food.” Joe says as he holds a small, styrofoam bowl of macaroni upside down for emphasis. Nothing falls out. 

“Why don’t you just bring your own lunch?” Patrick asks. He pokes at his own lunch--a small tupperware filled with leftover spaghetti his mom made two nights ago. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just bring my mom’s leftover latkes and matzah ball soup. Let everyone know how stereotypically Jewish my family really is. I already get called a kyke enough in my life, Rick. I hope there really is a God so that he can smite everyone of these fuckers on Judgement Day. Mazel Tov, assholes.” Joe says, raising his can of Coke up before taking a sip. Patrick just grins and rolls his eyes. 

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Patrick starts, “you should just bring something instead of buying the same food everyday and complaining about it _everyday_.”

Joe scoffs. “I’m starting to think my ramblings don’t amuse you like they used to.” 

“What gave you that idea?” Patrick asks. He stands up and makes his way to the nearest trash can to throw away his own Coke can and plastic fork. 

“Am I not enough for you?” Joe shouts after him. “When did the love die, Patrick?” 

“Stop,” Patrick says as he walks back. Joe grins and stabs his fork into what’s left of Patrick’s spaghetti. 

“So, have you given any more thought to going to that show next week?” Joe asks. 

“Dude, I told you. My parents.” Patrick responds. 

“Patrick, I know that you’re like the world’s best dog, being all loyal ‘n’ shit to your folks. But going against your parents wishes is, like, an integral part of being a teenager.”

“I’m not going, dude.” 

“You know I’m just going to bother you all week until you fucking agree to go.”

Patrick shrugs. Joe will relent eventually, give up when Patrick repeats the same answer enough times. Except Joe is much more tenacious than Patrick expected. Although, that shouldn’t really come as a surprise. Joe Trohman is the only person Patrick knows who managed to talk his freshman year math teacher into giving him a B instead of a C for absolutely no reason whatsoever. 

The day before the show, Patrick and Joe take the bus and get off at their usual stop to walk the rest of the way home together. 

“It’ll be fun, dude.” Joe says, continuing his endless quest to convince Patrick to go. 

“Joe, I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No, I really can’t. As much as I want to, you know my parents would freak out if I even brought it up.” 

“Then sneak out.” Joe suggests, shrugging, like it’s the simplest solution in the world. 

“Are you serious? Dude! What if my parents find out! I’m pretty sure my dad would legitimately kill me.”

They stop in front of Joe’s house and Patrick adjusts his bag. Joe gives him a hard look that makes Patrick just slightly uncomfortable.

“Come on, Patrick. When are you going to do anything spontaneous in your life?” Joe asks. 

Patrick looks down at his shoes and bites his bottom lip in contemplation. He glances down the street towards the direction of his own home, and then back at Joe’s face, before sighing in resignation.

“Pick me up at ten, but park down the street, okay? I don’t want my parents to hear your car.” 

Joe gets the biggest grin on his face and nods before clapping a hand down on Patrick’s shoulder. 

“This is gonna be so fucking awesome, dude! You won’t regret it.” 

“I already kind of do.” 

“That’s the spirit!”

\--

The next night, at nine forty-five, Patrick’s itching to call Joe and tell him to forget it and just go to the show alone. His parents are already in bed for the night. Patrick told them around 8:00 that he was going to finish some math homework and then go to sleep. He can hear his dad’s snores from down the hall. 

At nine fifty-five, Patrick climbs out of his bedroom window and carefully shuts it behind him. He never thought he’d be so grateful for living in a one-story house. Patrick pulls his hoodie up over his hat and shoves his hands into his pockets before quietly making his way down the front yard. He looks down the street in the direction where Joe lives and Patrick spots what looks like Joe’s car waiting a few houses away. The flash of headlights and an arm waving out of the window confirms his suspicion and Patrick quickly jogs over to the car. 

“Hey, man,” Joe greets through the open window. Patrick slides into the car and closes the door, ducking down in the seat as he tries to put his seatbelt on. “Relax, dude. Just watching you is stressing me out.” 

Patrick shoots Joe a look. Joe responds with a grin and starts his car before pulling away from the curb and heading down the street. Patrick makes a point to not look at his house as they drive by. 

The venue itself is about twenty to thirty minutes away from where they live. The entire ride, Patrick taps his fingers nervously against his knee and shakes his leg until Joe tells him to get a grip and pointedly asks at least five different times if he wants to just go home. 

“No, no, I want to go to this thing. I’ve just never snuck out before.” Patrick insists. Joe nods and they continue on with a random mix of punk music playing through Joe’s speakers. 

They pull up outside of Subterranean and Patrick is amazed at how many people are there for the show--how many _types_ of people are there for the show. He sees girls with colorful mohawks and guys with shredded up t-shirts and tattoos and piercings all over the place. Patrick glances down at himself and back up at the crowd loitering outside of the venue and feels particularly out of place in just jeans, a hoodie, and a green polo shirt. His only comfort is that Joe is dressed pretty similarly so maybe he won’t stand out as much.

They park a little bit down the road and walk up to the venue, passing by punks that don’t really give them a second glance. The security guard checks their IDs at the door, making sure that they’re old enough to be in the seventeen and over crowd, before nodding and letting them enter the building. 

Inside Subterranean is already and hot and slightly humid from the groups of people milling about, talking, and waiting in anticipation for the show to start. Joe tugs Patrick along the back wall until they find a spot to lean against. 

“I don’t know if you should be in the crowd since it’s your first time. It can get a little crazy in there.” Joe explains. Patrick just nods and leans against the wall next to him. 

The first band comes out, sets up, and gets ready to play. The crowd has scooted forward, leaving Joe and Patrick pretty isolated in their spots with the exception of a few others who don’t want to partake in the moshing, Patrick guesses. 

From the first chord, Patrick is completely hooked. The energy from the band and the crowd amazes him and by the time the first song is over, he and Joe are jumping up and down and cheering. Joe grins at Patrick’s beaming, sweaty face and they turn their attention back to the stage when the band starts the next song. 

The entire show is over by two in the morning and the two boys follow as the rest of the crowd makes their way out of the venue. 

“That was so fucking _awesome_ , dude!” Patrick exclaims.

“I told you, you wouldn’t regret it!” Joe exclaims. 

Patrick tugs off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty hair before pulling it back on. They try to maneuver their way through the crowd, dodging some scary-looking punks, when Patrick accidently runs into somebody on the sidewalk.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” Patrick yelps. 

“Oh, dude, it’s totally cool!” The guy responds, holding his hands up. The guy isn’t much taller than Patrick. He has a tan complexion and a few tattoos on his arms. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with some obscure band on it and some pretty tight jeans. The guy looks from Patrick to Joe and grins, showing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. “Hey, Trohman!” 

“Hey, Pete,” Joe greets before Pete pulls him in for a quick hug before Joe introduces them. “Patrick, this is Pete Wentz. He, uh, screams in Arma Angelus. Pete, this is my best friend, Patrick Stump.” 

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for almost knocking you down.” Patrick says and sticks out his hand. 

“It’s totally fine, dude. No harm done.” Pete grips Patrick’s hand shakes it vigorously. 

“It’s Patrick’s first show ever. I finally convinced him to come with me.” Joe grins triumphantly and Pete grins even wider. 

“No way! That’s awesome! The first show is always the best. How was it? Did you like it?” 

“Yeah, it was great.” Patrick says sheepishly. 

“Oh, Joe! I want you to meet this dude, hold on.” Pete scampers off and approaches one of the guys leaning against the wall of the venue. Pete says something, the guy nods, and Pete leads him to where Joe and Patrick stand. 

“Andy, this is Joe Trohman and his friend Patrick. Guys, this is Andy Hurley. He’s the drummer I was telling you about.” Pete directs his last comment to Joe. 

Andy Hurley is about Patrick’s height, with chin-length brown hair, and rimless glasses. He’s wearing a red t-shirt with some similar obscure logo like Pete’s, showing off his tattooed arms. His labret glints from the streetlights whenever he moves. He gives them a small smile before extending his hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Joe says, returning his handshake. 

“Likewise. So, you’re the ‘guitar god’ Joe Trohman I’ve been hearing so much about.” Andy says. Patrick’s kind of startled by the soft tone and higher pitch of his voice. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Joe says in mock modesty, “but yes, ‘guitar god’ works for me.” 

Andy looks at Patrick and tilts his head. “And you?”

“Oh! I’m Patrick Stump. I’m just here with Joe.” Patrick says quickly. Andy nods, a hint of that small smile still playing on his lips. 

The three talk amongst themselves for a few minutes while Patrick glances around and shifts uncomfortably. 

“Joe,” Patrick says eventually, tapping his friend on the shoulder, “dude, I should probably get home. It’s like, almost three.” 

“Oh, shit, right,” Joe responds, “okay, yeah, Patrick and I are going, but I’ll meet up with you dudes another time so we can get this band stuff worked out.” 

“Yeah, man, sounds good. Arma is playing here next week. You guys should definitely come hang with us.” Pete says to both of them. 

Joe looks at Patrick, his eyebrows raised. 

Patrick smiles and nods. “Wouldn’t miss it,” 

Joe drops him off and Patrick manages to get back into his room fairly quietly. He pulls off his jeans and t-shirt and flops down onto his bed, completely exhausted from the night. 

 

\--

His mom barges into his room and Patrick jumps, feeling like he’s only just blinked when he’s been asleep for a few hours. 

“Patrick, honey, why aren’t you ready for church?” she exclaims, quickly coming to his side. She puts a cold hand on his forehead and stares down at him with a concerned expression. “Are you feeling sick?” 

Patrick sees an advantage to this. He draws his blankets up around his neck and gives a feeble nod. 

“A little bit,” he says weakly. 

“Oh, sweetie. If you don’t feel like you can go to church, you don’t have to. You just stay in bed and feel better.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Patrick mumbles. She presses a kiss to his forehead and gives him a smile before leaving his room and gently closing the door behind her. Patrick closes his eyes and is asleep before his parents are gone. 

\--

That Friday, Patrick and Joe plan on how to get Patrick to the show the next night. The show starts at 8 PM, much earlier than the previous one, so Patrick can’t just sneak out and barrel back into his bedroom at 3 AM without his parents knowing. 

“Dude, I can just ask my mom if you can stay over. Your parents don’t have to know that you’re going to a show. My mom can keep a secret.” 

“But I have church on Sunday and I already faked sick last week.” Patrick says. 

“I’ll set my alarm so you can get up. You’ll just have to take one for the team on the church thing, I guess. Unless you want to tell your parents that you’re not into the whole ‘religion’ thing, which would be my suggestion.” Joe says before slurping up his cup of peaches obnoxiously. Patrick sets his backpack on the table in front of him and lays his head down.

“That’s not an option.” Patrick mumbles. 

“Just tell your mom we’re going to work on a project or something.”

“I guess I could do that.” Patrick says, not moving his head. 

Patrick always feels bad about lying to his mom, but he must be a pretty good liar because she doesn’t actually question it when Patrick asks if he can stay over at Joe’s to work on a science project with him. 

“Of course, honey. Just take your church clothes with you and we’ll come get you early, okay?” His mom says. Patrick nods and rushes up to his room to gather his things. He takes his backpack for appearances, kisses his mom goodbye, and waves at his dad with a quick “love you, guys” before running out the door. 

Joe is waiting for him out front so they can go get something to eat. Patrick tosses his bags into the backseat of his car and slides into the passenger’s seat. 

“I’m so proud of you, Stump. You’re a fucking rebel, lying to your parents.” 

“Shut up, I feel bad about it.” 

“You are _hopeless_.” Joe sighs. 

They eat Taco Bell and talk about the plan for the night. 

“Pete said that Arma’s the last band to go on and they’re scheduled to play around eleven. After that, there’s going to be a party at some dude’s house that everyone’s going to.” Joe explains through a mouthful of Crunchwrap. 

“Party?” Patrick asks. The word “party” makes Patrick’s anxiety go through the roof. 

“Don’t worry, I think all the dudes in Arma are edge and stuff, so you’ll be okay.” 

Patrick sighs, slightly relieved. That fact doesn’t help with the social anxiety aspect of everything, but it’s at least a bit of a consolation. 

They show up at the venue right at doors, and the two herd inside with everyone else for the show. Some band that neither Joe nor Patrick have ever heard of goes up first. They stay at the back, leaning against the wall like they did at the last show. The band isn’t bad but a fight breaks out in the middle of the crowd and the show is halted for a moment to throw those people out. 

When Arma finally comes on, Joe grabs Patrick’s arm and tugs him into the crowd. Patrick’s a little nervous about being in the pit but he thinks he can handle it. Pete comes running out on stage and everyone starts cheering. 

Patrick’s never heard Arma Angelus before this but he gets into the music and cheers along with the crowd. It isn’t until the moshing really starts that Patrick gets scared. Being small has its advantages and disadvantages, and being sucked into a mosh pit is a disadvantage if there ever was one. 

There are quite a few punches thrown that Patrick manages to dodge, but he can’t miss the kick to the ribs that almost sends him doubling over before Joe manages to fish him out of the circle. Joe doesn’t stop pulling him until they’re back at the wall. Patrick leans back and tries to control his breathing. Joe looks concerned and Patrick just bursts out laughing until Joe’s mouth twitches and he starts laughing too.

\--

“Dude!” Pete exclaims when Patrick and Joe meet up with the band later. “I saw you take a hit, Patrick! You took it like a fucking man!” 

“Thanks?” Patrick says sheepishly.

Joe and Patrick follow the band’s van to the party house. It’s not that far from the venue, but post-show traffic and the band’s trailer full of fragile equipment kind of slows them down. 

The house itself is nothing special. Just a typical, two-story house in the suburbs that the neighbors will mostly likely complain to the cops about given the loud music thumping audibly from down the block. They park a ways down the street and follow the band to the house. Pete happily talks to Joe and Patrick only half listens to their conversation. He’s more focused on trying to suppress his anxieties and the urge to puke and run. A hand on his shoulder startles him and he looks over to see Andy giving him a weak smile. 

“You okay, dude? You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not much of a party guy, y’know?” Patrick says. Andy just nods and keeps in step with Patrick the rest of the way to the house. 

The inside of the house is filled wall-to-wall with people. A plume of smoke hits Patrick in the face and he starts to cough. 

“That definitely was not cigarette smoke.” Patrick mumbles to Joe. 

They follow the band towards the backyard where there are a few groups of people sitting around. There’s a decent sized pool in the back and Pete lays claim to an open area around it. Patrick sits himself next to Joe. 

“I’m going to get drinks, what do you guys want?” Pete announces. Everyone shouts for different drinks and Pete grabs Andy to help him out. 

“So, how do you guys know Pete?” Chris, the band’s bassist, asks. 

“Pete and I have been friends for a while,” Joe explains, “Patrick just met them. He actually just went to his first show like, a couple of weeks ago.” 

“No way? That’s awesome, dude. I remember my first time. Got caught in the pit and took a punch to the eye. Had the gnarliest looking bruise for a while.” Chris remembers fondly. 

“I got caught in the pit tonight, actually. I got kicked pretty hard in the ribs.” Patrick says, earning praise and a high-five from Chris and Adam, their rhythm guitarist. 

Pete and Andy come back with everyone’s drinks and Andy hands Patrick his Coke before taking a seat next to him. Patrick is surprised to see Andy drinking Mountain Dew, and he figures Andy can sense it because he tells him, “I’m straight-edge.” 

“Oh,” Patrick nods and Andy gives him a little smile before turning his attention back to whatever story Pete is telling. 

The night goes a lot better than Patrick expected. Everyone is really nice and doesn’t make fun of Patrick for being new the scene; on the contrary, they start to share all of their stories of when they first got into the Chicago music scene and start giving Patrick tips and advice on all of the great bands, shows, and venues out there. Patrick’s anxiety disappears almost completely as the night progresses. 

\---

As it turns out, Joe gets a little tipsy at the party and can’t drive home. Joe insists that he’s not, though, and Patrick is prepared to tackle him for his keys. 

“Motherfu--you are _not_ driving, Joe. I will drive home.” Patrick half-shouts as Joe tries to push Patrick away, his hand flat on Patrick’s face. Joe flails when Patrick reaches for his pocket. “ _Joe_ , goddamnit, I will give you a fucking charlie horse if you don’t _cooperate_.” Patrick says through gritted teeth. 

Joe eventually gives up and Patrick fishes the keys out of his front pocket. 

“That was quite a show.” Andy says from behind him. Patrick gives him an exasperated smile. 

“Thank you, thank you. We’ll be here all week.” Patrick says, giving a short bow. 

Andy asks, “Do you need help with…?” And points at Joe, who is slumped against the refrigerator.

“That would be really awesome, thanks.” 

Joe slings one arm over each of his friends’ shoulders and drags his feet all the way back to his car. Patrick manages to get him buckled into the passenger seat before closing the door. Joe immediately lets his head fall against the window and Patrick hears the faintest snore. 

“Goddamnit, Joe…” Patrick mumbles. He turns to Andy who is laughing quietly to himself. “Thanks a lot, man. I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, dude.” Andy says. 

Patrick makes his way around the car and has the driver door open when Andy stops him and asks, “Hey, are you going to the Saves the Day show next week?” 

“I think Pete said something about it, but I don’t know the details.” 

“It’s next Thursday. All of us are going, as far as I know. You and Joe should come, too.” Andy says. 

“Yeah, man. I’ll see if I can work it out.” Patrick chirps. 

“Awesome. Drive safe, dude.” 

Patrick starts the car and Joe jumps and mumbles something when Patrick slams the door shut. He waves at Andy and pulls away. 

\--

“Dude, I can’t go to the Saves the Day show. I have some family dinner with my Aunt Freida that night.” Joe says during lunch. 

“Fuck, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get there, then. I can’t ask my mom to borrow the car.” Patrick responds. 

“Maybe you could ask Pete for a ride?” Joe suggests after swallowing a large mouthful of tuna. 

“Maybe. But, I’d feel weird. Like, I don’t feel like I know Pete well enough for that?” 

“You’re overthinking it, Rick. Pete thinks you’re cool. I’m sure he’d be down to get you.” Joe assures him.

As it turns out, Pete is entirely excited to retrieve Patrick before the show. 

“Now I’ll know where you live, dude!” Pete exclaims on the phone. 

“Oh, God.” Patrick mumbles, before hesitantly spouting off his address to Pete.

\--

Pete shows up Thursday night and calls Patrick. Patrick’s already dressed and ready, double-checking that his parents are still in the living room watching a movie. Patrick had claimed a headache and that he was going to head to bed early to sleep it off. He gives Pete a quick, “I’m coming down” before hanging up and carefully maneuvering himself out of his window quietly. 

He hustles down the front lawn and whips his head around until he spots Pete leaning against a car a few houses down across the street. He waves Patrick over and Patrick jogs towards him. He immediately spots Andy’s head poking out of the driver’s side window and raises an eyebrow. 

“Hurley said he could give me a ride and give you a ride, too.” Pete explains.

“Okay, cool. Thanks, man.” Patrick says. Andy just gives him a little smile and a nod before Patrick climbs into the backseat, barely avoiding a stack of anthropology textbooks and multicolored notebooks. 

“Sorry, I keep most of my school shit back there.” Andy says, looking at Patrick through the rearview mirror. 

The Saves the Day show is sold out and Patrick stays with Pete and Andy the entire time. Pete encourages Patrick to jump around and go all out for the show. 

He says, “You only live once, dude. Don’t worry about looking stupid. Everyone’s doing it.” And Patrick takes his advice and jumps and sings along to the music. 

They drop Patrick off at around two in the morning, after Pete talked Patrick around to getting something to eat first. Patrick thanks them and gives them a quick “see you later” before quietly making his way to his house. 

He opens up his bedroom window as quietly as he can before jumping up and pulling himself through. Before Patrick knows what’s happening, his foot slips off of the window sill and he tumbles on the floor with a loud thump. Patrick freezes for a second and quickly scrambles up when he hears his parents bedroom door open. He has his clothes off in record time, and has his hand on the doorknob when his mom opens it. 

“What was that?” she asks tiredly. 

“I got up for some water and I tripped on my shoes.” Patrick lies, trying to ignore how easily the lie comes out. 

“Oh, okay. Go get your water, then, sweetie,” she mumbles before turning around and shuffling back to her room. 

Patrick lets out a quiet sigh of relief and pads into the kitchen to get a glass of water before going back to his bedroom. He flops down onto his bed and pulls the covers over him before rolling over and falling asleep. 

\--

Patrick and Joe start to hang out with the guys from Arma Angelus, Andy, and a few others a lot more outside of shows. Pete invites them to their practices and Patrick tells his mom that he’s doing after-school tutoring or hanging out with Joe (the latter being _technically_ true, he’s just omitting the part where he’s hanging out with a bunch of other people in rock bands). He doesn’t necessarily feel so bad about lying to his parents anymore. He’s having fun and making friends and memories, which is exactly what his parents want. It’s just with people that they may find somewhat questionable. 

“Hey, watch this!” Timothy, Arma’s drummer, shouts before juggling three of his sticks. Patrick grins and watches in amusement as Andy shoves him over and attempts to do the same, only to fail miserably and get Chris on the side of the head with a rogue stick. 

At the end of their practice (which, Patrick realizes, mostly consists of the band fucking around and talking to them), he and Joe get ready to head home when Andy stops Patrick and gently pulls him aside. 

“Hey,” Andy says, pushing his glasses up from the tip of his nose. 

“What’s up?” Patrick asks. 

“Nothing, man. I was just wondering if you, like, wanted to hang out this weekend.” Andy asks  
quietly. Patrick is kind of surprised. Out of all of the people who Patrick thought might want to hang out with him, Andy was pretty low on the list. Pete would constantly reassure him that, “dude, that’s just how Hurley is, all stoic ‘n’ shit”, but Patrick wasn’t entirely convinced. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. That sounds great.” Patrick responds. Andy smiles his normal, small smile and nods. 

“How about Friday afternoon? I can come get you from school if you want.” 

“That would be awesome.” 

Patrick grins and waves at all of them before following Joe out to his car. 

\--

“Wait, so you’re hanging out with Hurley on Friday?” Joe asks after school on Wednesday. He and Patrick sit on the grass in front of the school, waiting for Patrick’s dad to get him for a dentist check-up. 

“Yeah,” 

“Just the two of you?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s a date, dude. Hurley asked you out on a date.” Joe says. Patrick feels his stomach turn as he looks at Joe with a wide-eyed expression. 

“No, he didn’t.” 

“Yes, he did! Oh, my God! This is fucking amazing!” Joe crows, slapping his hand against his thigh. 

“Oh, my God. Shut up, Joe. Fucking _fuck_.” Patrick says. 

Joe wipes his eyes. “Dude, dude, calm down. Just tell him it was a misunderstanding or whatever. Andy’ll understand. He’s a cool dude.” 

“I didn’t even _know_ that he’s gay!” Patrick says loudly. He claps a hand over his mouth and looks around to make sure nobody heard him. 

“Well, it’s not like he goes around announcing it. I forget that it’s not, like, common knowledge, though. I wouldn’t worry about it. Hurley’s like, the most sensible dude on the planet. He won’t hold it against you that you’re not gay or whatever.” Joe shrugs. 

Patrick’s dad pulls up and Joe gives him a little fist bump before Patrick stands up and wipes the grass off of himself. He climbs into the car and Joe gives him an unnerving grin and little wave before his dad pulls away. 

\--

The things about Patrick’s dilemma is that Patrick isn’t entirely sure that he’s _not_ gay. Actually, Patrick’s only ever dated one girl in his life. Her name was Beatrice and she was short, cute, and a little bit punk rock. Patrick was initially attracted to her because she was wearing a “The Specials” shirt and she and Patrick talked for a good hour about ska music. He kissed her a couple of times but their relationship never went beyond that, as their time together was often under the watchful eye of a parent. There was one specific instance where she deliberately undressed in front of him and Patrick didn’t feel like he reacted to it the way he should have. She was pretty, but he just wasn’t really _aroused_ by her. 

He thought that it might have been a fluke; maybe she was just more of a friend to him and Patrick subconsciously _couldn’t_ think of her that way. Patrick became more self-aware after that. He became aware of the fact that most girls didn’t really ever get a second glance from him. It wasn’t until he was practically staring down a very sweaty, and very shirtless Jeremy Collins during his PE class that Patrick spiraled into his sexuality crisis. He never told anyone, including Joe, about it because he didn’t want to make it into a bigger deal than it already was for him. 

Patrick knows that he’s making too big a deal out of Andy asking him out (if Joe is even right about that, which Patrick sort of holds out hope that he’s not). He’s just really confused as to why Andy would even ask. How did he know that Patrick is, for all intents and purposes, queer? Or was Andy just taking a shot in the dark? More importantly, _why the fuck_ would Andy want to go out with him? Patrick doesn’t think of himself as interesting, charming, or even attractive, necessarily. Andy is really smart, and interesting, and charming in his own way. Patrick can also admit that Andy _is_ pretty cute. 

Patrick shakes his head and rubs his face in exasperation. 

“What’s wrong?” Patrick’s dad asks. They’re sitting in the waiting room of the dentist’s office, and Patrick realizes that this may not be the best place to have his little crisis. 

“Nothing, Dad. Just kind of tired.” Patrick says. 

\--

Andy picks him up that Friday, as promised. Patrick pleaded with Joe earlier that day to try and come with them, but Joe refused and Patrick jokingly denounced him as his best friend (maybe only half-joking because Joe maybe sucks a little bit for not helping Patrick out).

“Hey,” Andy greets when Patrick opens the passenger door. “You can throw your stuff in the back seat, if you want.” Patrick tosses his backpack behind him and settles back into the seat. 

“So,” Patrick starts, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie nervously, “what do you want to do?” 

“I was thinking we could go eat, like, if you’re hungry, I mean.” Andy shrugs. 

“Yeah, man, I’m starving.” Patrick says. Andy smiles at him and Patrick feels a little more at ease with the situation. 

They end up at a Chinese restaurant with a huge plate of fried tofu in front of them. Andy talks about school, Patrick talks about how shitty high school is, and they battle with their chopsticks for the last piece of baby corn on the plate. Patrick manages to snatch it up and splits it with a knife so Andy can have half. 

“So, are you musically inclined, Patrick?” Andy asks. He’s fiddling with some grains of rice, trying to carefully pick them up with his chopsticks. Patrick watches the grains fall each time and smiles. 

“I mean, yeah. But it’s kind of hard when your parents try and monitor all the shit you listen to.” Patrick mumbles. 

“They do? Why?” 

Patrick sighs. “My parents are pretty religious. It’s not that they don’t like music, or anything. My dad listens to Frank Sinatra all the time and my mom loves Etta James. They just don’t want me listening to things that may be impressionable on me or whatever.” 

“I guess I can understand that. That still sucks, though. Are you, uh, religious? Or is it mostly just a family thing?” Andy asks tentatively. 

“I don’t really know what I believe, but organized religion definitely isn’t my thing. What about you?” 

“I’m an atheist.” Andy says easily. 

“Oh,” Patrick replies. He’s not sure why he’s so surprised by that information. A vegan, edge dude in a hardcore band being an atheist isn’t exactly breaking news. 

Andy gets Patrick back home before five. He parks a ways down the street without Patrick asking him to, which he is appreciative of. 

“Thanks, dude. Today was fun.” Patrick says sincerely. Andy grins, and Patrick is pretty sure that this is the first time he’s ever seen Andy do that. 

“Good, I’m glad. I’ll see you later, man.” Andy leans over with one arm outstretched and Patrick jerks back, his brain immediately going into panic mode. Andy gives him a confused look and Patrick reaches for his backpack.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck, this was stupid. I’ll see you--fuck, I’m sorry.” Patrick babbles as he tries to get himself unbuckled and out of the car as fast as he can manage. 

Andy tries to ask him, “Patrick, wait, what--”, but Patrick slams the car door and books it towards his house, his face burning. The front door is unlocked and Patrick slams it and leans against it, trying to catch his breath. 

His mom pokes her head out of the kitchen and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What happened?” she asks. 

“Oh, uh, that crazy dog that lives in the house down the street from Joe’s was loose. I don’t think he followed me but I ran anyway.” Patrick gives a slight, exasperated laugh and his mom just gives him a bemused smile and nod before disappearing. 

\--

“How’d your date go?” Joe asks, the next Monday at school. 

“It wasn’t a date, you dick.” Patrick mutters into his Cup Noodles.

\--

Patrick’s parents go out of town for some church event the same weekend as the next Arma Angelus show. They don’t make Patrick go with them because he claims he has a lot of homework to do and won’t be able to participate in the activities. It’s getting easier and easier to lie to them, and Patrick should probably feel worse about it. 

Joe picks him up in front of his house around eight and Patrick revels in the feeling of not having to sneak around and jump out of his fucking window, if only for tonight. 

The venue is already packed to the gills as the first band sets up to play. Patrick talks with Pete and Joe the entire time before the band goes on and Pete has to head backstage to warm up with the other guys. Patrick spots Andy standing off to the side of the bar, chatting up the bartender who seems to only be half paying attention to whatever Andy’s saying. 

Andy doesn’t look at Patrick during the entire show, doesn’t acknowledge that Patrick is even there. Patrick doesn’t cheer when Arma goes on because he’s too busy being worried that Andy hates his guts now. 

“Lover’s quarrel?” Joe asks between sets, looking between Andy, who is talking to another show goer, and Patrick. 

Patrick gives him a threatening look. “Do _not_ , right now.” 

Joe’s eyes go a little bit wider and he backs up, holding his hands up as a sign of surrender. Patrick glances at Andy throughout the entire set, not catching his gaze even once. 

Pete joins them after the show and grins, receiving high fives from everyone around. Patrick tells him how great it was (which is true, it’s just that Patrick’s mind wasn’t completely focused on it), and Pete grins and pulls him into a tight hug, in true post-show Pete Wentz fashion. 

They loiter outside of the venue. Joe has a cigarette and Patrick steps away from him to get away from the second-hand smoke, not wanting to set off his allergies. Andy leans against the band’s trailer, talking quietly with Chris. Chris looks up when Patrick approaches and gives Andy a little nod in his direction, before mumbling something and heading over to talk with the other guys. 

“I’m really sorry about last week.” Patrick says. Andy’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting Patrick to flat-out apologize for bolting. “I just thought that you were going to, like, kiss me and I panicked.” 

“I was going to hug you, dude.” Andy says, a hint of exasperation in his tone. 

“Oh.” Patrick says. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry that I didn’t clarify…what my intentions were, I guess?” 

“No, no, it’s okay. _I’m_ sorry for reacting like a dipshit.” 

“You’re forgiven.” Andy nods. Patrick gives him a half-smile and holds his arm out to hug him. Andy smiles back and accepts the hug a little stiffly. 

They pull away and Patrick asks, “So, are we good?” 

“Yeah...yeah, we’re good.” Andy replies. 

\--

Saturday afternoon is the official “Band Practice Day” for Arma because of their big show coming up at The Metro. The entire band buzzes with excitement at the idea of playing at the legendary venue, and Pete’s adamant about not fucking it up, so Official Band Practice Saturday is taken as serious business. 

Andy attends Official Band Practice Saturday and only exchanges a formal greeting with Patrick before sitting on the other side of the room. 

Patrick spends that whole Saturday biting his thumb nail down and stealing glances at him. 

\--

Saturday practice ends with the group going out for pizza. They stay at the pizza parlor (where the staff knows Pete very well and treat them all very kindly, even though their whole lot looks like a bunch of hooligan kids, which, granted, they kind of are) until a crowd of kids from a late-night punk show file in. 

They polish off their food and Chris calls it a night, patting his stomach contently. Everyone agrees and Patrick mumbles that he’s going to head to the bathroom first before they go. He dodges a punk couple who are almost aggressively groping each other by the soda machine and Patrick pushes the men’s bathroom door open.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Andy (whom Patrick had noticed disappear from their group about half an hour earlier, but didn’t think much of it) pressed up against the wall of the bathroom, lips locked with some random, sort-of punk looking dude with dyed black hair and too-tight jeans. Patrick is glued to his spot and only reacts when the sort-of punk dude starts to kiss Andy’s neck and he tilts his head in Patrick’s direction and opens his eyes. 

When Andy spots him, he hastily shoves the dude away and straightens himself out. 

“We’re, uh, going now, if you, uh...yeah.” Patrick says meekly before reaching blindly for the door and backing out. His face feels like it’s on fire when he rejoins Pete and Joe. 

Andy returns to the table, pointedly making sure that he doesn’t make any direct eye contact with Patrick. Patrick doesn’t worry about it this time as he does the same. 

\--

Patrick skips out on church on Sunday since his parents aren’t due back until the late afternoon. He spends the morning pacing around his house, definitely not thinking about Andy. He makes himself breakfast, still definitely not thinking about Andy. He watches the Food Network, cleans the kitchen, and does some homework, _not_ thinking about Andy at all. 

With all of his not thinking about Andy, Patrick definitely doesn’t jerk off in the shower with the image of _him_ being the one sucking on Andy’s throat and marking him--doesn’t think about them kissing until their lips are swollen, or Andy whimpering and making needy noises in the back of his throat. Patrick definitely does not come thinking about any of that and mumbling Andy’s name. 

Patrick is definitely _not_ completely fucked. 

\--

“I’m so completely fucked,” Patrick says at lunch on Monday. 

“Well, hello to you, too.” Joe greets, looking up from his unfinished Chemistry homework that Patrick knows is due next period. 

“Sorry, hey,” Patrick mutters, unwrapping his brownie to share with his friend. 

“So, why are you ‘so completely fucked’?” Joe asks, not looking up from the things he’s scribbling down on his paper. 

“Because…” Patrick sighs, “because I can’t stop thinking about stupid fucking Andy.” 

Joe stops his writing abruptly and looks up at Patrick. 

“Meaning?” he asks. 

“Do you need me to spell out for you?” 

“That might be helpful. Do it with your tater tots.” 

“Joe,” Patrick starts. 

“Sorry, sorry. That’s just, like, jarring information, dude. I never really got the gay vibe from you.” Joe shrugs. “Plus, it’s _Hurley_. Even if I knew that you’re at least sort-of gay, I never would have pegged Hurley as your type.” 

Patrick just shrugs and tosses a couple of tater tots on Joe’s sandwich. He’s not really that hungry, anyway. 

“Now I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, ever since I freaked out on him, I’m pretty sure he hates me a little bit.”

Joe says, “Dude, I keep telling you, that’s just how he is.” 

“No, no,” Patrick shakes his head, “I mean, he is like, _actively_ avoiding me, I’m pretty sure. I wouldn’t’ be surprised if he saw me and fucking barrel-rolled out of a room just to get away from me.” 

“I know that this might be a really crazy suggestion, but maybe you should, like, talk to him.” Joe says.

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” 

“Then he doesn’t have to say anything. But make him hear you out, at least.” 

Patrick opens and closes his mouth before cocking his head. Joe shrugs and shoves a tater tot in his mouth before mumbling, “Dude, you’re really shit at thinking about things logically, sometimes.”

\--

Getting Andy to talk with him turns out to be a lot more difficult than Patrick anticipated. Not only do their conflicting schedules pose an issue, but Andy has started bailing on hanging out at Arma’s practices as well, and Patrick’s sure that he’ll bail on going to shows with them, too. 

“Well, Racetraitor is opening for this one band at Subterranean on Saturday.” Joe explains. They’re sitting in Patrick’s room, playing video games and procrastinating on their respective projects for English. “If you want to be that guy and like, stalk his band.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to be that guy.” Patrick says, not looking away from the TV screen. 

\--

Patrick’s never seen a Racetraitor show because Racetraitor doesn’t play shows that often. Pete’s really bad at handling more than one band at a time, and Arma tends to be his main priority. 

They’re supposed to go on right before some other local, death metal band that Patrick’s never heard of is supposed to play. Joe and Patrick show up to the venue right when 7 Angels 7 Plagues opens up, and Patrick tries to keep himself hidden in case Andy’s wandering around.

Racetraitor starts setting up and Patrick tugs his baseball cap down to cover his eyes. Joe just snickers next to him. 

“Cool it, Ocean’s Eleven. I don’t think he’ll see you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Patrick mumbles. 

They hear a voice shout distantly, “Hey, Trohman,” and Patrick sees 7 Angels 7 Plagues’ lead vocalist approach them. He’s even taller than Patrick had figured from his presence onstage. 

“Hey, Mixon.” Joe greets. 

“Hey, dude, I didn’t know you’d be coming out tonight. Hurley didn’t say anything.” Matt says, running a hand over his head. He’s covered in sweat and grinning like a maniac. 

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t actually know we’re here.” Joe says, nodding in Patrick’s direction. “This is my friend Patrick Stump. Patrick, this is Hurley’s best friend, Matt Mixon.” 

Matt’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Oh, so you’re the famous Patrick I’ve been hearing about.” 

Patrick’s not sure if he likes the sound of that. He sticks out his hand in Matt’s direction and Matt doesn’t hesitate to shake it. “Yeah, I guess? Nice to meet you.” Patrick mutters. 

“Likewise, dude.” Matt says sincerely. 

Racetraitor goes on and Patrick can’t keep his eyes off of Andy. He knew that Andy was a drummer but he’d never actually seen him behind a kit before. He’s all colorful blurs and hard energy. In between songs, Andy will push his hair back and lick his lips and Patrick just _wants_ , but he keeps his composure and crosses his arms. He notices in his peripheral vision that Matt looks at him occasionally throughout the set. 

They don’t stay for the last band. Instead, they go outside where the Racetraitor equipment trailer is. Pete’s leaning against the van, conversing with some guy with white boy dreads. He spots his friends and waves them over, grinning excitedly. 

“Hey, dudes! I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says to Patrick and Joe. 

“Just a last minute thing, I guess. Where’s Hurley?” Joe asks. 

“He’s fixing his stuff in the trailer.” Pete jabs a thumb in the direction of the trailer’s open door. Patrick glances at his friend and blinks when he sees Joe’s hard stare. He nods and waves a hand at him to go find the drummer. 

Andy’s still shirtless as he arranges his equipment and Patrick is torn between it being a blessing and a curse. It’s going to be a distraction for him, at the very least. 

“Hey,” Patrick manages to squeak out. Andy jumps and whips around, bracing himself against the wall of the trailer. 

“Holy shit, Patrick. Don’t _do_ that.” 

Patrick smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“What are you doing here?” Andy asks. 

“Joe told me about the show and I’d never seen you play, so I thought…” Patrick explains, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Okay. But, what are you doing in _here_?” 

“Oh. Well, I just. I don’t know. I guess I wanted to talk to you.” 

“About what?” Andy turns away and continues to arrange his equipment and Patrick definitely doesn’t stare at the way his muscles shift. 

“Well, I thought that you’ve been, like, avoiding me or whatever and I’m starting to think that we’re not all good, y’know?” 

“Okay,” Andy mumbles. 

“Are we not? All good, I mean?” 

“We’re fine, Patrick.” 

“Fine isn’t _good_ , though.” 

Andy sighs in annoyance and Patrick shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, dude. I feel like I should be allowed to be a little hurt ‘n’ shit by your reaction to me trying to _hug_ you. I’m gay, dude, I don’t have the fucking Plague or whatever.” 

“But I--” 

“I know you probably have this idea that your parents drilled into your head about gay people, but I’m not out to like, fucking convert you to the ‘Satanist Church of Homoism’.” Andy continues, still not looking at Patrick. 

“ _Dude_ , I fucking--you’re not--are you being _serious_ right now?” Patrick asks. 

Andy finally turns to him, an eyebrow raised. Patrick takes a deep breath and shakes his head in exasperation. 

“Oh my fucking God, Hurley. Do you really think I’m a fucking black belt level homophobe or something?” Patrick asks. Andy shrugs. “I didn’t freak out on you because you’re gay! I could not give any less of a shit about that, seriously. I freaked out because I wasn’t sure if _I’m_ , y’know, sort of gay, and Joe was making jokes about it being a date and I didn’t know if you had actually asked me out or if you wanted to just hang out as my friend or whatever. And then I apologize and you tell me we’re all good when we’re clearly _not_ all good, and then you just go and make out with that fucking punk guy at the pizza place and--”

Andy interrupts him. “Wait, why does _that_ matter?” 

“What? No! It doesn’t! I mean, not really, I just--” Patrick scrambles. 

“Holy shit,” Andy gets the most obnoxious, shit-eating grin on his face and Patrick sort of hates him in that moment. “Holy fucking shit, were you _jealous_? Did I make you spiral into your gay existential crisis? That’s fucking awesome.” 

“Oh, my God.” Patrick mumbles, covering his face with his hands.

Andy doesn’t falter. “I feel so honored to be your first gay crush.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just so hot and amazing that I couldn’t possibly resist your charms.” Patrick deadpans (though he’s really only half kidding himself, there.)

“First off, I’d like to thank the Academy--” 

“Andy--” 

“--and I’d also like to thank not only God--” 

“ _Andy_ \--”

“--but Jesus Christ, for this wonderful honor--” 

“Shut up,” Patrick draws out. Andy smiles at him and Patrick can’t help but smile back. “So, I think we should do this properly this time. Meaning, I know exactly what this is and I don’t freak out about it.” 

“Okay, so I’ll be explicitly clear this time,” Andy says, “would you, Patrick Stump, like to go on a really gay date with me, Andy Hurley, next Friday?” 

“I would love to go on a really gay date with you.” Patrick responds. 

Andy grins and nods at him. “Alright, then. It’s a date.” 

\--

Patrick’s kind of stupidly nervous for his date with Andy. Joe rolls his eyes when Patrick tells him so. Patrick manages to chew his nails down to almost nothing. It’s kind of fucking ridiculous, but Patrick’s never claimed to be the coolest cucumber in the patch, or whatever. 

By his last class, he’s practically buzzing in his seat, watching the clock and absent-mindedly scribbling down notes. 

Andy’s leaning against his car across the street from the front entrance. Everyone is glancing at him, some whispering things to their friends. It’s not really surprising, though. Andy’s full sleeves and stone-cold expression can be a little off-putting. He grins when Patrick pops out of the crowd and he waves him over. 

“Hey,” Patrick greets, adjusting the strap of his backpack and smiling shyly.

“Hey,” Andy echoes, “you ready?”

“Yeah,” Andy runs around to the other side of his car to open the passenger door and takes Patrick’s bag for him. Patrick would make a joke if it wasn’t so fucking cute. 

Andy takes him to get an early dinner at a Thai place where the owners seem to know Andy pretty well. The restaurant sits across the road from a Tower Records that Patrick looks at longingly until Andy smiles and asks, “Do you want to go check it out?” 

Patrick has only been to Tower Records a few times, all of those times being with Joe. It’s not his favorite record store around, but it is the closest and they always have some pretty cool stuff. Patrick already has a small collection of records hidden away in his closet that he breaks out occasionally when he’s alone. 

Andy is kind of amazed when Patrick begins browsing through different records and spouting off facts like a goddamn encyclopedia. Patrick holds up the Queens of Noise album and flips it over to read the track listings. 

“The Runaways had like, five different bassists, and I’m pretty sure Joan Jett played bass for a few shows in Japan. But Jackie Fox was their longest standing bassist.” 

Patrick looks up and sees Andy leaning over the CD rack and smiling at him. Patrick smiles and quirks an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

Andy shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just really cute to watch you get so excited over music.”

Patrick grins and says, “If you think that’s cute, then you’re going to _love_ my movie trivia.” 

\--

They park down the street from Patrick’s house. Patrick has a small bag of CDs shoved into his backpack, which he clutches closely to his chest. 

“I had a lot of fun,” Patrick says, ignoring the slight feeling of deja vu that lingers in the back of his mind. He’s determined not to fuck it up this time. 

“I did, too.” Andy replies. 

“We should do this again.” 

“I agree.” 

They sit silently. Patrick’s brain screams for him to _do_ something--do anything--but he is kind of frozen out of nervousness (which is still really fucking stupid, seriously, Hurley should _not_ make him this nervous).

Andy finally breaks the silence. “Am I allowed to kiss you?” 

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” Patrick teases. 

“Technically, this is our second date.” 

“Oh, yeah, because our first one went so well.” 

Andy chuckles and reaches back to give Patrick his bag. Patrick smiles and thanks him before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. When he pulls away, Andy grins and shakes his head. 

“You hussy,” he says before pulling Patrick by his shirt collar for one more kiss. Patrick huffs a laugh against his lips and gently pushes him away. 

“Okay, Casanova, I have to go before my parents call the SWAT team to look for me.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you next week, yeah?” Andy asks. 

“Mmhm,” Patrick hums. He presses one more kiss to Andy’s cheek and quickly climbs out of the car. Patrick waves as Andy pulls away and he sets off down the block to his own house. 

\--

“So, are you guys, like, a _thing_ now?” Chris asks during Arma’s practice-turned-hangout. 

“I guess we are.” Andy answers, looking at Patrick who nods and smiles. 

\--

The next few months go by quickly. Thanksgiving happens, then Christmas, and then New Years. Patrick hangs out with the whole crew during New Years, eating vegan pizza and drinking Coke and Mountain Dew. Mrs. Wentz sets out other snacks and Patrick helps her clean up (she announces later that Patrick is her new favorite). 

They watch the countdown on TV and Patrick gives Andy a New Years kiss. Andy rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully before stealing another kiss. Pete makes gagging noises beside them and throws popcorn at their faces. 

\--

“I’m really impressed that you’ve managed to keep everything a secret from your parents for so long.” Joe comments one day at lunch. The new semester has just started and Patrick is mulling over the stupid AP calculus homework that he’s already been assigned. He looks up from his textbook and shrugs. 

“I’m planning to keep it that way.” Patrick says. 

“Dude, they’re going to find out eventually.” Joe says. 

Patrick sighs, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” 

\--

Patrick’s leaning against the wall of the venue watching Andy load up the trailer after a Racetraitor show at Bottom Lounge. Andy glances up at him every once in a while, giving him little smiles. It makes Patrick grin and look away bashfully (which Andy maintains is the cutest fucking thing ever, seriously, this dude is going to be the death of him). 

Once Andy is finished, he walks over to Patrick and leans against the wall next to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. 

“Hey,” Andy greets quietly.

“Hey,” Patrick responds. “The show was great.” 

“Really? I thought it could have been better.” Andy says. 

“No way, you guys were great. _You_ were great.” Patrick leans into Andy and presses a small kiss to his shoulder. 

“Mm, I know I was.” Andy mumbles. 

They’re leaning in close together and Patrick can feel himself going cross-eyed trying to focus on Andy’s face. Andy presses a soft kiss to Patrick’s lips and Patrick’s eyes flutter closed, his stomach turning over with butterflies. 

It’s nothing too heavy or risque; just a few soft, gentle kisses, Patrick wrapping his arms around Andy’s neck, and Andy holding his waist. Pete gives a few catcalls and Patrick feels Andy’s hand move away for a brief second, most likely to give Pete the middle finger. It’s nice, sweet, and damn near perfect. 

“Patrick Martin Stump, what in God’s name are you _doing_?!” The familiar shriek of an angry mother pierces through Patrick and Andy’s happy bubble. Specifically, Patrick’s angry mother. Patrick quickly pulls away from Andy and whips around to see his mom stalking towards him, his dad not far behind. 

“Mom! I--” 

“Save it! You are coming home right now and you better take a good look at this place because it’s the last time that you’re ever going to see it!” 

She grabs Patrick by the hood of his jacket and tugs him towards the car. Andy stares after them, too confused and shocked to do anything while Patrick’s mom gets her son into the car, slamming the door angrily. Andy sees her begin to scream at him as they pull away. 

“Holy shit.” Pete says. 

“Fuck.” Joe echoes. 

Andy runs a hand through his hair and turns helplessly to Joe who just shrugs, a similar look of worry written all over his face. 

\--

Patrick sits on the couch, watching his mom pace back and forth in front of him. His dad sits off to the side in his recliner, watching his wife and occasionally glancing at Patrick. 

“Why would you lie to us about this, Patrick?” she finally asks, not stopping her movements. 

“Because I knew you guys wouldn’t let me go if you knew where I was really going.” Patrick answers quietly, averting his gaze down at the floor. 

“You’re damn right we wouldn’t have let you! Do you know what kinds of people go to those shows, Patrick? Drug addicts! School dropouts! People we don’t want you hanging around!” 

“Oh my God, Mom, you’re blowing this whole thing--” 

“And that boy! Who was that boy that you were _kissing_? Why were you kissing him? Did he drug you? Are you on drugs right now? Have you been drinking?” Patrick’s mom leans in close to Patrick’s face and examines his eyes for any sign of dilated pupils or bloodshot eyes. Patrick pulls away from her, batting her hands away. 

“Mom! He didn’t drug me! I haven’t been doing anything! His name is Andy and he’s edge and he’s, like, the nicest guy--” 

“I don’t want you hanging around him or seeing him, Patrick. He’s a bad influence!”

“You don’t even _know_ him!”

“I know that he’s compromising your virtue!” 

Patrick rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts. “He’s not _compromising_ anything! Is it so hard for you to believe that your son might actually like guys? Is that such a hard concept for you to wrap your head around?” 

This stops Patrick’s mom, but only for a moment. 

“You’re just confused. I’m so glad Mrs. Banks from church saw you outside of that place, otherwise who knows what else you would have gotten up to.” 

“Mom--” 

“You’re grounded, Patrick. Go to your room, leave your door open. We’ll talk about what exactly your punishment is tomorrow.” 

Patrick looks at his father helplessly before hanging his head and giving a small nod. He gets up and drags his feet the entire way there. 

\--

Patrick isn’t allowed to interact with Joe at all, but he reasons his parents can’t keep him from seeing Joe at school. Joe finds him the next day sitting alone at one of the lunch tables in the cafeteria. He sets his tray down in front of him and studies Patrick’s face for a moment. 

“So, what’s the verdict?” Joe finally asks. 

“I’m grounded for the rest of my life.” Patrick mumbles. 

“Seriously,” 

“I’m being serious. That is what my mom said, verbatim. ‘You are ground for the rest of your life’.” Patrick says, using air quotes. “That usually means I’m grounded until she decides otherwise.” 

“Shit, that’s rough...What, uh...what did your mom say about Andy?” Joe asks hesitantly. 

Patrick groans and lays his head on the table. “That I’m just confused and he’s a bad influence because he’s ‘compromising my virtue’.” 

“Oh, my _God_.” 

“Right?” 

The rest of the day drags on slowly. Patrick’s sitting in his math class when he gets an idea. He pulls out a clean sheet of paper and begins scribbling on it. By the end of class, Patrick’s got a half-page letter written to Andy explaining his situation, signed with a frowny face and a heart along with his name. 

“I need you to give this to Andy.” Patrick says when he meets up with Joe after school. They’re still inside as a precaution. Patrick’s dad is supposed to pick him up after school every day now so his parents know where he is at all times. 

“You wrote him a letter? Patrick, that’s the cutest shit ever. That’s like, straight out of a romance novel or something.” Joe grabs the folded up paper and sticks it neatly into his binder before tucking it back under his arm. 

“Thanks, dude. I owe you one. Seriously. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Patrick says, quickly pulling Joe into a hug before rushing out to meet his dad. 

\--

“I come bearing a letter from your fair maiden.” Joe says when shows up at band practice that night. Pete snickers, earning a punch to the kidney from Andy. Joe hands him the letter and Andy quickly unfolds it to read:

_Andy,_

_I haven’t written a letter in literally years, but I guess I’m going to be the latest and last author included in_ Love Letters of Great Men. 

_Basically, I’m grounded for the rest of eternity, which means until my parents let up. I’m also not allowed to talk to Joe anymore and I’m not allowed to see you. I’ve been trying to figure out ways to meet up with you but that’s not going to happen until the heat is off._

_Just know that I still want us to happen. This is just a small obstacle to work around right now. Until then, I can send you letters via Joe since my parents can’t police what I do at school._

_Sincerely,_  
 _Patrick_

Andy smiles and folds the letter up neatly before sticking it in his bag for safe keeping. Joe and Pete look at him expectantly. 

“Do you have a sheet of paper?” Andy asks Joe. Joe smiles and nods before pulling out his binder and handing it over along with a pen. 

Andy writes his own letter while Pete and Joe fuck around with his drum kit (stopping a few times to threaten some ass-kickings if they break anything, so help him God). After a few minutes, he folds the paper neatly and leaves it in Joe’s binder to deliver to Patrick. 

\--

“Here,” Joe says the next day at lunch, handing Patrick the paper, “a response from your knight in shining, uh, Levi’s.” 

Patrick all but rips open the letter. 

_Patrick,_

_In the neverending volumes of_ Love Letters of Great Men _you’d probably be the greatest._

_I’m really sorry about what happened. For the record, I’ve never seen anyone so angry in my life. Your mom’s screaming abilities are actually pretty impressive. She should look into being in a hardcore band._

_I’m also sorry that you’re grounded for the rest of your life. But I want this to work too, and I’ll wait until you’re not on house arrest, however long that takes. For now, I’ll wait for Joe the Owl to bring me letters._

_Regards,_   
_Andy_

The letter is finished with a little happy face right next to his name. Patrick grins and tucks the letter into his math book. 

“I really resent being called an owl.” Joe says. 

“Wait, you read it?” 

Joe shrugs. “Are we surprised?” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and flings a tater tot at him with his spork. 

“Dude, it’s only been a few days and I’m already dying from this stupid punishment. I want to hang out with you guys and stuff again.” 

“Sorry, man. I wish I had some solution for you, but your parents are metaphorical tight asses. I’m assuming literal ones, too.” 

“Nope, no, didn’t need that visual, thanks.” 

“So, what exactly are you allowed to do?” Joe asks. 

“I’m allowed to go to church.” Patrick deadpans. Joe waits for the rest of the list but Patrick stays quiet. 

“Jesus Christ, that’s brutal. All you did was sort-of lie to them and now you can’t do anything but praise God.” Joe throws his arms up in the air and sings the last couple of words in a wobbly, out-of-key preacher voice. 

“I think it’s more about the kissing a boy thing that makes my parents seriously think I need Jesus now.” 

“Oh.” 

“Too real?” Patrick asks.

“Kind of.” 

\--

That Sunday, Patrick’s family heads to church. Word had apparently gotten out about Patrick’s “little escapade” and everyone at the church has started treating him like a pariah. Patrick fleetingly thinks that he’d really like to remind everyone that “the gay” is not contagious. 

He stands outside of the church entrance while his parents talk to some of the older members of the congregation. Patrick shuffles and shifts his weight from foot-to-foot, waiting for the conversation to end so they can go inside. He hears a car horn and looks around until he spots Pete and Andy ducking inside of Pete’s car. Patrick quickly glances at his parents who aren’t paying attention to him. He gives a smile and a discrete wave, trying to suppress the face-breaking grin he wants to give. 

He turns back to his parents just in time for his mom to turn around and quickly shuffle them inside. Patrick glances back and sees Andy and Pete still hiding in the car. He hopes that they’ll stick around for just a little bit longer. 

During the sermon, Patrick fidgets and shakes his leg nervously. He glances at the clock occasionally and looks around at the different church goers. Most of the women are dressed nicely in colorful dresses or skirts. The men are generally wearing their “Sunday Best” slacks and button-ups. Patrick fiddles with his own tie and finally turns to his mom. 

“Mom, I need to use the restroom.” Patrick whispers is fake urgency. 

“Okay, but hurry back,” she responds. 

Patrick is out of his seat in record time. The church has two sets of doors, one being the entrance to the church building itself, the other being the entrance to the worship hall. The worship hall doors close behind him and Patrick pushes through the large front entrance door, glancing around until he sees Pete and Andy sitting off to the side of the steps. They look up at him and Andy grins and scrambles to get up. 

Patrick throws his arms around Andy and nuzzles his neck. Andy squeezes Patrick’s waist tightly. 

“I missed you,” Andy mumbles into his ear. 

“I missed you, too.” Patrick says. 

They stay like that for a few seconds, just holding onto each other and slightly swaying to keep from falling over. Eventually, Andy pulls away and kisses Patrick’s forehead. 

“You clean up real nice, Stump.” Pete says, grinning at the two like a fucking madman. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Patrick mutters. “I have to go back inside or else my mom will get suspicious. I’m sorry.” 

Andy nods understandingly. “It’s okay. I’m just really glad I got to see you, Patrick.” He pecks Patrick’s lips and nose, making Patrick’s face tinge pink. 

“I’m really glad you came here. Speaking of, how did you find out what church I go to?” 

“Joe,” Pete answers easily. 

“Of course.” Patrick says, rolling his eyes. 

After a few more kisses and a hug from Pete, Patrick rushes back inside, making sure that nobody’s in the hallway to see him come from outside. He slides back into the worship hall and sits back down next to his mom. She gives him a small smile and they both turn their attention back to the sermon. Patrick smiles to himself and lightly touches his lips, happy that he got to see Andy, if only for a few minutes. 

After the service, Patrick starts to head towards the door but his mom pulls him back. He gives her a confused look when she wheels him around and starts to head towards the front of the church where the pastor is standing. He gives Patrick a disarming smile. He glances between the pastor and his parents, who are also giving him a weirdly sympathetic look. 

“What’s going on?” Patrick asks slowly. 

“Honey, we love you, and given everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, your father and I have been discussing our options on how to deal with your, uh...affliction, so to speak.” Patrick’s mom explains. 

“My affliction? What affliction? Wait, you don’t mean--” 

The pastor cuts him off. “Patrick, your parents are very worried about you. They’ve explained the situation to me and I’ve told them about a few very viable options to help you.” 

“Viable options?” Patrick echoes. The pastor hands him a few brochures with photos of cabins and teenagers smiling and crosses. “Holy shit, you want to send me to one of those ‘Pray the Gay Away’ camps? Are you all insane?!”

“Patrick, we’re just trying to help you! It’s just for a summer and it could really help you!” Patrick’s mom pleads. 

“I don’t need help, Mom! There’s nothing wrong with me!” 

“Son, this is for your own good. We don’t want you going through life so confused and misguided.” Patrick’s dad says. 

“ _Confused and misguided?_ Oh my fucking _God_ , I’m not confused about anything! I am _gay_. That’s it, end of story. That is who I am and I’m not fucking ashamed of that! And I’m not going to your stupid fucking brainwashing camp so that I can lie to myself for the rest of my life and probably end up killing myself all because my parents couldn’t accept one simple thing.” 

“You better watch your mouth. Your parents are just trying to help. You’re going against everything in the Bible, Patrick.” 

“It must be really nice to cherry-pick what does and doesn’t apply in the Bible, huh? You can eat all the shrimp you want, but I fall in love with a dude and I’m totally fucked. If there is a God that is as oh-so-loving and accepting as you say he is and he wants to send me to Hell for how he made me, then so be it! I don’t care! Because _this_ ,” Patrick gestures around to them and the church itself, “is already Hell on Earth for me.” 

“Patrick--” His mom starts, but Patrick just shakes his head and calmly turns on his heel to walk out. 

As soon as he gets out of the building, Patrick tries to suppress the urge to hyperventilate and cry, and instead starts to run. He runs to get far away from the church, from the pastor, from his parents, and doesn’t stop until he feels like he’s going to collapse. He leans against the wall of a pizza parlor to catch his breath. After about a minute, he slips into the restaurant and approaches the counter hesitantly. The girl working the front smiles up at him and immediately frowns when she sees what kind of condition he’s in. 

“How can I help you?” she asks, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. 

“Can I, uh, use your phone, please?” Patrick asks quietly. 

“You can’t use the business phone, but you can borrow my cell phone,” she says and slides her cell over to him. 

“Thank you so much.” Patrick mumbles. He dials in Joe’s number and waits for him to answer. 

“Hello?” A bright voice answers.

“Hi, Mrs. Trohman. It’s Patrick. Is Joe home?” Patrick asks, his voice wavering slightly. 

“Oh, hello, Patrick! We haven’t heard from you in a while! Yes, he’s right here, hold on.” 

There’s some muffled sounds and voices while she talks to her son. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Joe asks. 

“I need you to come get me.” Patrick says. 

“Uh, okay. Where at? Did something happen?” 

“I’m at Rob’s Pizzeria. It’s like, six blocks away from the church. I’ll explain when you get here, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Joe says before hanging up. 

Patrick hands the phone back to the girl at the counter. 

“Thank you,” Patrick says again before taking a seat at a small, empty table by the window. He watches different cars go by and shakes his leg nervously. His parents probably know that he’ll go with Joe. It’ll probably be the first place they look for him. He should have called Andy or Pete, but Joe seemed like his best option because Joe’s parents knew everything and completely understood. 

The waitress comes around from the counter and sets two slices of pizza and a soda in front of him. Patrick glances up at her and she just smiles and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“On the house, dude,” she says quietly before leaving him to get back to work. 

After about twenty minutes of Patrick nibbling on his food, Joe’s car pulls up across the street. He stands up, grabs a ten dollar bill from his wallet and leaves it on the table for the waitress, and rushes out to meet his friend. 

It isn’t until he’s the safety of Joe’s car that Patrick completely breaks down. He manages to explain the situation to Joe between sobs, hiccups, and sniffles. Joe’s grip on the wheel gets progressively tighter as Patrick explains.

“Goddamn, dude,” Joe says finally, “that’s so fucking shitty, like, I’m really fucking pissed off at your parents right now.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Patrick mumbles, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Well, you can stay with me for now if you want. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.”

“Thanks, man.” Patrick says quietly. 

Joe takes Patrick back to his house and Joe’s mom meets them in the kitchen with a worried look on her face. 

“Patrick, your parents just called looking for you. I said you weren’t here, which technically wasn’t a lie, but is something going on?” 

Patrick explains the story over again and Joe’s mom’s eyebrows come closer and closer together as he talks. When he’s finished with his explanation, she pulls Patrick into a tight hug.

“That’s awful, just awful. You can stay here as long as you want, Patrick.” 

“Thanks, Mrs. Trohman.” Patrick chokes out. 

“Mom, I think you’re crushing him.” Joe says. 

Mrs. Trohman rushes upstairs to talk to her husband while Joe and Patrick go into the living room. Joe turns on the TV for some white noise. Patrick doesn’t feel like doing much of anything. He dwells on his situation and rubs his face tiredly. Since he’s already turned eighteen, he’s legally allowed to move out and do what he wants. But Patrick knows he can’t stay with Joe’s family forever (although Patrick doesn’t doubt that Mrs. Trohman would let him). 

He leans his head back against the couch and Joe puts a hand on his shoulder. Patrick smiles weakly at his friend before turning to look back up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and feels Joe shift to get off the couch. Patrick doesn’t question him and instead takes the opportunity to fall sideways onto the couch. He rests his head on one of the decorative pillows. Patrick is so exhausted that he falls asleep almost immediately. 

It’s suddenly a lot darker when Patrick wakes up. The TV is still flickering in front of him on mute, casting shadows against the living room. He sits up and looks around. He can hear voices coming from the kitchen so he gets up to investigate. 

Sitting around the dining table is Joe, Pete, and Andy. All three look up when Patrick enters and Andy immediately gets up to throw his arms around Patrick. 

“I’m so sorry,” Andy mumbles into Patrick’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s probably for the best, anyway. It got me out of their house.” Patrick says, trying to be hopeful. His tone is less than convincing. 

Patrick joins them at the table and rubs his eyes, still crusted from sleep. He yawns and stretches, wincing at the popping in his shoulders, before leaning over and resting his head on Andy’s shoulder. 

Mrs. Trohman comes downstairs and gives Patrick a sympathetic smile before asking, “How are you feeling, Patrick?” 

“I’m feeling a little bit better. Thanks, Mrs. Trohman.” Patrick smiles and she nods before going about her business in the kitchen. 

“So, what are you going to do?” Pete asks. He has a mug of coffee in front of him that he stirs around with a spoon. 

“Well, Joe’s mom said I could crash here for a while. But, other than that, I have no idea.” Patrick mumbles. He turns his head and rubs his face gently against Andy’s shoulder, sighing loudly. 

“I mean, we have a spare bed at the apartment,” Pete says, looking at Andy for confirmation. “You could totally crash with us for as long as you want.” 

Patrick opens his eyes and perks his head up. “Really? That’d be awesome.” 

“It might be better than sleeping on our ancient couch.” Joe comments. Mrs. Trohman gives her son a _look_ but ends up humming in agreement. 

“Yeah...yeah, I think that might be good. Thanks, guys, seriously. This means a lot to me.” Patrick says. Andy wraps his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and presses a chaste kiss to his temple. Pete smiles and takes a sip of his coffee. 

\--

Patrick’s never been to their apartment. All of the Arma practices are held either at Chris’ house or the Wentz house (which is always great because Mama Wentz would usually make cookies and lemonade for all of them). Pete, Andy, and Adam shared the apartment for a while, but Adam decided to move in with his girlfriend, leaving one of the bedrooms free. 

“I’m going to move my shit in there and you can take the other bed in Hurley’s room.” Pete says with a wink. Patrick feels his face flush and rolls his eyes. 

“ _You_ ,” Andy says, pointing at Pete while wrapping his other arm around Patrick, “shush.” 

The room is slightly messy on one side (what Patrick assumes to be Pete’s side of the room), and the walls are covered with music posters and Star Wars posters. There’s a small bookshelf with stacks of poetry anthologies and comic books arranged in neat order. 

“You fucking nerd,” Patrick says with a grin as Andy flops back onto his own bed. He gives Patrick the middle finger before waving him over. 

“C’mere,” he says. Patrick crawls into Andy’s bed and rests his head on the pillow beside him. Patrick turns his head and gives Andy a little smile before blindly grabbing for his hand. 

“Thanks for letting me stay here.” Patrick mumbles. 

“Please, you really think I was going to let your parents keep you in their clutches?” 

“You’re the best.” Patrick says before pecking Andy’s lips and turning his head to face the ceiling again. He yawns and stretches out against Andy’s side. Andy pulls the blanket up over them and they snuggle in together. 

\--

Patrick wakes with a jerk, sweating and hyperventilating over a dream that escapes him. The room is pitch black and Patrick can hear the soft snore from Pete on the other bed. 

“Hey,” Andy mumbles, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s middle and tugging him closer. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, at least I think I am. I had a bad dream, I think, but I can’t remember. My emotions are kinda all over the place right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Patrick sighs, “Not right now.” 

“Okay,” Andy says. 

Patrick rolls over to face Andy. He smiles weakly at him in the darkness and turns his face into the pillow. Andy snakes his arm back around Patrick and presses a kiss to his head. It doesn’t take long for Patrick to fall back asleep. 

\--

“I don’t want to do this.” Patrick says. He’s sitting in the passenger seat of Pete’s van with Andy sitting in the back, parked outside of his parents’ house.

“You just have to go in and get your clothes and whatever else you want to bring right now. I can go in with you, if you want.” Andy says, placing a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. 

“No, no, I think that’d make it worse.” 

“You got this, dude.” Pete says, patting Patrick’s leg and giving him an encouraging smile. Patrick nods and takes a deep breath before sliding out of the van. He forces his legs to take every step until he’s standing in front of the door. He glances back and Pete and Andy both give him a thumbs up. Patrick takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

The house is quiet and Patrick glances around the living room and the kitchen, but his parents are nowhere to be seen. He scuttles down the hall and quickly makes his way into his bedroom. He starts grabbing whatever clothes he has in his dresser and tosses them into a laundry basket. 

“Patrick?” 

Patrick jumps and turns to see his mom standing in the doorway. She gives him a confused look. 

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly. 

“I’m just getting some of my stuff to take with me.” Patrick mumbles. He turns back to his clothes and starts tossing them in at a slower pace. 

“Here,” Patrick’s mom says softly, coming to Patrick’s side and folding the shirts in the basket, “you’re going to get them all wrinkled if you don’t fold them.” 

“Thanks,” Patrick says. 

They work together quietly, folding clothes and placing them in the laundry basket. Eventually, Patrick’s mom silently leaves the room and comes back with a large suitcase from the hall closet. 

“Do you really have to go?” she asks, staring down at one of his t-shirts that’s gripped tightly in her hands. 

“Yeah, I think I do.” Patrick responds, not looking at her. 

“I’m sorry, Patrick.” 

“I am too, Mom.” 

It takes another twenty minutes until Patrick’s clothes and other various items are securely packed up and sitting by the front door. His mom gives him a soft smile and hesitates before leaning in for a hug. Patrick’s dad’s expression is hard, but he hugs his son as well and gives him a light pat on the back. 

“You know you can always move back.” Patrick’s mom whispers. Patrick nods. 

“We still love you, Patrick. Very much,” his dad says. 

“I love you guys, too. But I think this is the best choice for me right now.” Patrick states, nodding his head firmly. 

“Please be safe,” his mom says.

“I will.” 

Patrick lugs the laundry basket under his arm and grabs the handle of the suitcase. His mom opens the door for him and Patrick walks down to Pete’s van. His parents stand in the doorway and watch as Andy helps him lug his stuff into the back. When Patrick turns back to the house, the door is closed and the blinds are shut tight. 

“Let’s go,” Patrick says before climbing into the backseat with Andy. Pete starts the car and drives away and Patrick doesn’t look back. 

\--

“Hey, wake up. Joe’s here and we’re going to get some breakfast.” Andy mumbles into Patrick’s ear. Patrick groans and rolls over, shielding his face from the blinding sunlight that pours into the room. He’s only been staying Pete and Andy for a month and they’ve already taken to harassing Patrick until he wakes up. 

“Fuck you,” Patrick mumbles. 

“Later, now get up.” 

“Can I shower first?” Patrick asks. 

“Yeah, but make it quick.” Andy responds, pulling the pillow off of his face and pecking his lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Patrick yawns.

Patrick doesn’t necessarily shower very quickly. He scrubs his face to wake himself up and sings showtunes into the shampoo bottle in between washing his hair and his body. 

He dries off and gets himself into the clean clothes he brought with him into the bathroom. He’s pulling on his trucker hat when Pete grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him vigorously, shouting, “Why didn’t you tell us you could fucking sing?!” 

Patrick blinks and shakes his head, glancing at Andy (who looks thoroughly amazed) and Joe (who has the smuggest look on his face). 

“I always told him he had a great voice but he never listened to me.” Joe comments. 

“You are going to be in our band, Patrick, and that’s not a fucking question.” Pete says, motioning at himself and the other two. 

“I, uh...okay?” Patrick says. It’s way too early for this. 

“C’mon, let’s go eat and then we’re going to have band practice at my mom’s house with this dude singing.” Pete wraps an arm around Patrick’s neck and tugs him along. Patrick laughs and pulls out of Pete’s grip by punching him gently in the side. Joe and Pete are the first ones out the door and Andy slides up next to Patrick, taking his hand and gently pulling him along. 

They all pile into Joe’s car, Pete and Joe up front and Patrick and Andy in the back. Pete and Joe talk excitedly about whatever music is in the CD player. Patrick grins and listens to their conversation, joining in with Andy occasionally. They don’t let go of each other’s hands.


End file.
